Drink and Drown
by gopadfoot
Summary: John decides to get both Holmes brothers drunk- together. Will he manage? What will happen if he does? A tale told in a series of 221b's.
1. Chapter 1

Mycroft Holmes was, by all means, a measured man. His words were carefully chosen, to achieve maximum effect with minimum effort. His clothing was tailored to suit the image he wanted to project, and his expression was constantly being schooled into the appropriate mien for each situation.

That's why John was shocked to hear that Mycroft Holmes could, and did, get drunk. Granted, it was only the one time (that Sherlock knew of), and that had happened over two decades ago. Mycroft had been home from Uni for Christmas, and had, in a fit of insanity, decided to drink his troubles away. (On that occasion, it was the Holmes family, both sets of grandparents, plus Uncle Rudy and Great-Aunt Myra all in the same room at once, so he couldn't really be blamed.)

"It was an occasion to remember," Sherlock chuckled as he reminisced. "All I need to do is say 'Christmas 1995' to get Mycroft blushing."

"Mycroft is biologically incapable of blushing," John stated. "I'm pretty sure he's just some scientific experiment gone wrong, dumped onto you by your crazy Uncle Rudy."

Sherlock shook his head firmly. "You don't believe me, do you? I'll show you the next time Mycroft comes over. Have a camera handy."

John couldn't wait even a bit.


	2. Chapter 2

Mycroft was sitting across his violin-wielding brother, grimacing at the screeching sounds emitted from the instrument. John stood by expectantly.

"Brother dear," Sherlock spoke up. "Do you happen to remember Christmas 1995?"

Mycroft looked up in horror. His head swiveled to John, and to the doctor's disbelief, a Rouge tint appeared on the older man's cheeks. "You told him," he whispered harshly, glaring at his brother. "You will pay for this. Should I start with New Years Eve, 2002?"

Sherlock paled. He had deleted that memory, but it quickly came back to him now. "No, that isn't fair play! I only mentioned that you got drunk, and not a single detail more!"

"Then I shall return the courtesy," Mycroft countered.

"What happened in 2002?" John asked Mycroft curiously.

"Whose side are you on now?" Sherlock complained.

"Well, I will only say that my little brother got drunk, and showed a whole new side to himself," Mycroft interjected smugly.

"I've seen Sherlock drunk," John mused. "Well, so was I at the time, and it _was_ an experience, but not unlike many other drinks I've seen before."

"No, that was different," Mycroft insisted. "It happened among family."

"So did _your_ incident," Sherlock said snidely.

"Family?" John mused, as a daring plan began forming in his befuddled brain.


	3. Chapter 3

"Interesting," John mused. "The British Government and the world's only consulting detective, both happen to be a couple of lightweights."

"I'm not a lightweight!" Sherlock protested, just as Mycroft indignantly exclaimed, "Nonsense!"

"Sure," the doctor scoffed.

"Mycroft definitely is," the detective insisted.

John suppressed a smile. The Holmes's sibling rivalry was doing all the work for him.

"You could never hold your liquor, Sherlock," Mycroft sniffed disdainfully.

"I could drink you under the table!"

"You really couldn't-"

"I'll prove it!"

"Gentlemen," John interrupted the burgeoning argument. "No need to argue. How about we settle this amicably?"

"How?" Mycroft asked suspiciously.

"By holding a drinking match, of course."

"No!" the brothers exclaimed simultaneously.

"You both seem frightened by the thought. I wonder why?" John asked nonchalantly.

The Holmes men stared at him in horror. No one had ever dared to question their manliness in quite that way.

"I'll do it," Sherlock, ever the impulsive one, jumped into the trap first.

"If I must," Mycroft said sourly.

"I'll call Greg, so we can have another judge," John suggested.

"Who?" asked Sherlock.

"You're both on Sherlock's side," Mycroft whined.

"Would you rather call Anthea?" John asked sweetly.

Mycroft shook his head violently. The men settled on a date one week away. The game had begun.


	4. Chapter 4

Mycroft dumped several documents on the table.

"These are the non-disclosure agreements you will all be required to sign. In addition, all technological recording equipment shall be put aside for the duration of-"

"Wait a moment," Greg interrupted. "I don't recall that being part of the agreement."

"Perhaps that isn't such a bad idea," Sherlock spoke up, looking a bit green.

"Come on, Sherlock, wouldn't you want some evidence of Mycroft's Big Loss?" John coaxed.

"Think of what you could do with a video of Sherlock drunk off his head," Greg urged Mycroft.

The brothers reluctantly agreed.

"Alright, let's set up the rules," the DI began, clearly enjoying himself. "The first one to either fall unconscious, refuse a drink, or bring everything back up, loses." He smirked as he set down a bottle of scotch, and poured two glasses. "One, two, three, begin!"

The glasses were quickly emptied, and just as quickly refilled. By the third round, the contestants were looking green. Stoically, they completed the fourth.

By the fifth, Sherlock turned to Mycroft. "I'm not- not going to be like you. Remember when you told Uncle Ru-Rudy exshactly what you thought of him?"

"Luck-ly, he was ash drunk ash me," Mycroft slurred.

"Yesh," Sherlock agreed. "But then thingsh shtarted getting bad."


	5. Chapter 5

"You became se-se-shentimental!" Sherlock accused.

"No, I didn't!" Mycroft protested. "I merely, uh, was jusht con-confused."

"Quick, pour then another one!" Greg whispered. "This is getting good!"

After forcing down another drink, the brothers were feeling pretty woozy.

"You hugged Daddy and told him he was the- hiccup- besht father _ever_!"

"But then I told Mummy I l-loved her, but she should shtop nagging and crit-is-sizing so much, 'cause she drives everyone bonkersh!"

"Then I hid in the pantry cause you were trying to hug me!" Sherlock giggled.

"But you were sho adorable, looking sho grownup for sush a little boy!"

"Shtop it, Mycroft, you're sho in-inshufferable!"

"You really mean that?" the British Government was looking very hurt. "But I really, really meant it! You are shtill adorable, did you know?"

The older brother got up, staggered over to the younger one, and reached out to pinch his cheek. "You will alwaysh be my little brother, Sherlock, no matter how ma-many white hairs you- hiccup- give me."

"I'm not a- little shtupid, uh, a shtupid little boy anymore! I hate you, Mycroft!" Sherlock shouted, then began sobbing.

Mycroft looked stricken, and took a step back, and grabbed the table to steady himself. "I'm shorry that you do, little brother."


	6. Chapter 6

"Mycroft, a-are you angry?" Sherlock asked, his eyes wide.

"No, brother mine, jusht hurt. Why do you hate me sho much?"

"I didn't mean it! Honesht! I jusht hate when you treat me like a baby, you prat!"

Greg took hold of John's shoulder and whispered into his ear, "You think they'll remember this?"

"If they do, they'll kill us just to leave no witnesses," John whispered back.

"Just keep filming. We can always go into witness protection."

"Shorry, Sherlock. You know I can't help it. I worry about you cons- conshtitutionally."

"But you didn't let me become a pirate!" the younger Holmes whined.

"You alwaysh become sho childish when you're drunk. Remember 2002, when you ran around with your shword and threatened to make ush walk the plank, cause we didn't let you play with ex-ecshploshives at the table?"

"Sho what, _I_ didn't become shentimen- oooohhhh," Sherlock broke off, moaning. "Mikey, I don't feel sho good."

Mycroft rushed to his brother's side, and instantly was covered in puke.

"Mikey," Sherlock sobbed. "Don't go. Help me."

The British Government sat down on the floor, and pulled his brother's head onto his lap.

"Shhh, Sherly," he cooed."I'm not going anywhere. I love you, shilly boy."


	7. Chapter 7

"John, my dear friend, would you mind getting me some wipesh?" Mycroft asked.

"What?" John asked, his jaw hanging.

"Y'know, those thingiesh you clean up with..." Mycroft scratched his head, pondering the matter.

"No, I mean, did you just call me your dear friend?"

The Iceman chuckled. "Are you teazhing me, John? Of coursh you're my friend. We meet up to talk and drink tea, and I trusht you to watch my little monshter, er, monshter of a brother. Who did you think I was friendsh with, the Prime Minishter?"

Mycroft continued chuckling mirthfully, when Sherlock suddenly jerked and groaned. "Nooo, Mikey, not John. John'sh mine... mine firsht besht friend, uh, besht friend firsht. Can't take him, Mikey. MINE!"

"Don't worry, Sherlock, I'll always be your besht, uh, best friend first," John crouched down next to his sprawled friend.

"Good. You should alwaysh make him your pry- priory, cause he'sh too recklesh," Mycroft nodded, satisfied.

"Oil, Leshtrade, I hope I haven't hurt your feelingsh," Mycroft called to the DI, looking worried. "You know you're alsho a good friend. Alwaysh watching out for Sherly. Alwaysh sho, sho, reshponshible. Thank you, Leshtrade."

"Hish name ish Greg, and he'sh _my_ friend," Sherlock protested.

Greg jumped up. "You _do_ know my name, you little blighter!"


	8. Chapter 8

"You knew it all along!" Greg hissed.

"I'm shorry, Greg, pleazhe don't be mad," Sherlock whimpered. "It wazh funny. Ha ha, I gotcha good, didn't I, George? No, wait, now I'm really con-con-, all mikshed up." He whimpered.

"Don't worry, Sherlock, it's just the alcohol. Now, I was right about the lightweight part, wasn't I? I must say that Mycroft, at least-"

"Sherlock," the said man croaked. "I'm not feeling sho great."

The younger Holmes, who had slightly recuperated by now, sat up and moved away as quickly as he could manage, but was too late.

"Thanksh, brother mine," Sherlock muttered. "You ruined my fav'rit shirt."

"No, you threw up on it _firsht,_ " Mycroft responded indignantly.

"But your puke ish shmellier."

"Ishn't"

"Ish."

"Ishn't- Sherly, I'm feeling _terrible._ I think I'm dying. I'm shorry, brother mine," Mycroft said, looking miserable.

"I get your coin collection! Yay!" Sherlock cheered.

"Don't you feel shorry for me?" Mycroft asked, brokenhearted.

"Nah, you're jusht a drama queen. Remember that-that time, when you shaid the shame thing, and Mummy wazh crying, and you shaid you loved ush all, 'shept bitchy Aunt Myra, and would we pleazh tell you we loved you before you were all deadz and buried?"


	9. Chapter 9

"You didn't," Mycroft frowned. "You didn't shay it."

"Cause I wasn't drunken then," Sherlock replied.

"But you're drunken now!"

"But you alwayz shay that shenti-sheminent izh not, um, advanshing, or shomething."

"It izh, if you're drunken," Mycroft said firmly. "Cause, then it'sh an advantage, cause then you feel lonely, sho..." he trailed off, perplexed. "Yesh, if no one _thinksh_ you're really shen-timent-ally, ah, dish-ad-van-taged, cause they know you're drunken, then you, uh, ma-ni-pea-you-late them, to think you don't _mean_ it, sho, sho then you can shay it!" he beamed.

Sherlock looked confused. "Sho, I can shay it?"

"Uh huh. Ol-ny if you mean it. Cause you can't ma-nip-you-late _me,_ I'm the shmart one."

Sherlock didn't seem convinced. "But I can't shay it, cause it'sh a shecret!"

"Sho shay it in shecret."

Sherlock shifted over, and leaned his face to the side of Mycroft's. His whisper was audible to the others. "I love you, too, even if you're a _rubbish_ big bother."

"Brother," Mycroft corrected primly, in the same loud whisper.

"Bother," Sherlock repeated defiantly. "But you can't tell anyone I shaid it, 'kay? John will laugh 'til he'sh _bawling_."


	10. Chapter 10

Mycroft stretched out on the floor, yawning, while muttering something about a nap. Greg suggested he find a proper bed.

"No, Mikey, shtay. Pish off, Greg, he'sh my bo-brother."

"Sherly?" Mycroft whispered.

"Yeah?"

"Don't forget to brush your teeth."

"Pish off." Sherlock lay down perpendicular to Mycroft, his head resting on the older one's chest. Within minutes, they were both snoring.

The DI and the doctor exchanged befuddled glances. "John," Greg said shaking. "I believe I am hallucinating. Although I don't remember taking anything."

"Mate," John said gently. "I believe we just shared the same hallucination."

"You mean... you also saw Iceman turn into a doting granny?" Greg asked, his head spinning.

"Yeah, that. And Sherlock into a clingy child, who actually loves his brother."

"He knows my name!"

"He said he's my best friend!"

Greg leaned towards John, and said, with quiet urgency, "We might have a few minutes to pack, if we hurry."

John paled. "They wouldn't, would they?"

Greg shook his head sadly. "My dear John, if those two remember _anything_ of what transpired, there's no way they'll leave any witnesses, sentiment aside."

"We can't run forever," John said solemnly. "Not from those two."

Suddenly, his face lit up. "But I think we've got a lucky break."


	11. Chapter 11

Sherlock was the first one to wake.

"Owwww," he moaned. He lifted his head from his pillow, only to discover that said pillow clearly resembled his Archenemy. He sat up in alarm.

"Wha- Sherlock?" Mycroft said hoarsely, rubbing his temples.

The two judges stood over them apprehensively.

Mycroft quickly collected himself. "So, dear judges, whom do you appoint the winner of the contest?" he asked smoothly, and then grimaced in pain.

"There are no winners, only losers," John said firmly.

"I've never seen quite a pair of lightweights such as yourselves," Greg added smugly. "It was hilariously funny."

Mycroft narrowed his eyes dangerously. "Whatever you _think_ may have heard or seen, you are surely mistaken. For the sake of your continued health, don't speak, just nod in agreement."

"Nope," Greg smiled. "Not happening. The footage has been sent to some, er, interested parties, with strict instructions not to be opened-"

" _Unless_ something should happen to one or the other of us," John finished off threateningly.

"I have no idea what you're all going on about," Sherlock said icily. "Gavin, get out, and take John with you. I have no use for both of you."

"Sure, sure" Greg said cheerfully, as John smirked.

"For the record," Sherlock added testily. "I'll have you know that I _loathe_ my brother."


	12. Chapter 12

"Whatever you say, Sherlock," John smirked.

"I'll make myself a coffee, since none of you have offered," Sherlock glared.

"Make it two, brother mine," Mycroft called.

"Piss off."

"My brother can be so intransigent," Mycroft sighed. "I can barely stand him."

"Of course," Greg grinned.

"Don't you two have somewhere to be?" Mycroft asked frigidly.

"Yes, yes, we're leaving," John said hastily. They hurried out, swallowing their laughter.

Sherlock came in with two cups of coffee.

"Is it the slow-acting poison, or the quick-acting one?" Mycroft asked curiously.

"Slow-acting, of course, so you suffer longer," Sherlock answered smugly.

Mycroft drank the coffee anyway. He found it preferable to death by exploding headache.

"So, brother dear, can we agree that what happens in Baker Street, stays in Baker Street?"

"Did something happen?" Sherlock asked innocently.

"Theoretically speaking, of course."

"Well, I guess it would depend on the 'interested parties.'"

"I would think Mummy wouldn't betray us like that."

"Mummy?" Sherlock asked, horrified.

"She might not have opened it," Mycroft said optimistically.

"Sure," Sherlock said disbelievingly. "She'll be calling in a few days to have some 'quality family time,' and watch that blasted video together!"

Sherlock and Mycroft were soon forced to suffer the consequences, as Mummy cooed over the adorableness of her drunk babies!


End file.
